Two Birds
by Fluff.and.Rainbows
Summary: With one stone, although nothing really got done. Sherlock decides to help John decide which is worse, his flat mate's mood swings or his experiments. Sherlock decides to help himself while he's at it.


**Warning. **Gay. That's to be expected, though, isn't it? Sexual references, although far, _far_ from graphic.

**Disclaimer. **BBC's _Sherlock_ is obviously property of the BBC Network.

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><p><strong>Two Birds (With One Stone).<strong>

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><p>He could watch the other man for hours (and frequently did; he was a fascinating yet <em>simple<em> person, a living contradiction), thoughts going so fast (breath hitched, palms sweating, a light flush, eyes flickering around the room; aroused, attracted, interested, finds him desirable?) that those other, silly minded people (Anderson, Lestrade, Donovan...) could only gape. Not John (never John). John let it happen, assumed Sherlock had a reason for his madness, his quirks, his eccentricities, and let him stare (and stare he did). Sherlock knew he found it almost..._flattering _(mildly embarrassing, questionable, amazing- and he so loved that word)_. _Him staring. John _liked_ it.

John liked his voice, too. Oh, John _loved_ his voice. They both knew it. Sherlock especially knew it (watching his lips move, eyes glazed, expression slightly vacant, aroused, definitely aroused). John chose to ignore it (when he could, not a feat he accomplished often).

Sherlock, of course, noticed that his friend was attracted to him (please, you had to be blind not to notice; Sherlock was anything but). He wanted to take that attraction to the, well..._next level. _John would just have to be persuaded first.

He also found Sherlock insufferable (annoying, socially awkward, bizarre, incredible, lacking, such a hypocrite) on occasion. Sherlock's moods (_bored_) weren't often met with sympathy on John's part (yet he holds such a vast amount of it for any other instance). His experiments were met with even less (_a head in the fridge_, Sherlock? A head!). John didn't know which was worse, the experiments (boiling point, acidity levels, toxicity, survivable?) or the moods (smiley face shot into the wall?).

Sherlock decided to help him choose.

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><p><strong>Make tea.<strong>

**SH**

"Sherlock!" A disgruntled, unamused John Watson came into the sitting room, phone in hand, and glared at his eccentric flat mate. "I was in the _other room_. You couldn't have just shouted that?"

**No.**

**SH**

"Really, Sherlock. This is absurd. Make your own tea," John told him, pocketing his phone in a purposeful show of annoyance, going into the kitchen despite his words (he was making tea for _himself_, he most certainly told himself. Sherlock knew better; he heard two mugs be set on the counter).

**Why do that when I have such an excellent tea maker for a flat mate?**

**SH**

"I'm not making you tea!" Was called back into the sitting room. Sherlock allowed himself a smirk, sitting curled in his dressing gown on the couch.

**Yes, you are. Two mugs, although one spoon, taking you decidedly longer to make the tea than if it was for just yourself. Got the milk out, prefer not to have it in your tea. Making me a cup.**

**SH**

"I would be done _faster_ if _someone_ would stop texting me."

**Hurry up.**

**SH**

John came back in, scowl in place, setting a steaming mug of tea (just how he liked it) on the coffee table in front of his friend. "Are you simply being stubborn, not speaking?"

**Experiment.**

**SH**

"Of course it is." John sat down in his chair, mug in hand, turning the telly on. "What is it for this time? Should I expect to see my phone in acid by the end of the day?"

**Only if you put it there. Unlikely.**

**SH**

"I'm turning my phone off, Sherlock!" John warned him, throwing his friend a look. Sherlock merely rose a brow. "I will, I swear."

**No, you won't. You're interested.**

**SH**

John groaned, making a point of watching the crap telly and sipping his tea rather than giving his friend any attention. His phone chirped, and he made another point of ignoring it (fingers twitched, eyes narrowed, almost imperceptive, downturn at the corner of his lips).

Sherlock stayed quiet, hitting send over and over and over (and _over_) until John made a sound of annoyance, setting his mug down on the end table to pick up his phone and glare at the text.

_Ten new messages._

**Don't you want to know what it's about?**

**SH**

John sent that glare his friend's way, who only smirked from his curled up position on the couch. He had yet to move for his tea. "Fine," John said with a tired sigh. "What is it?"

**Do you like my voice?  
>SH<strong>

"Sherlock, what does that have to do with anything?" John asked, exasperated (cheeks lightly flushed, twitch in the hand, not looking at him, eyes burning into the small screen).

**Everything.**

**SH**

Another sigh was given (still not looking at him, eyes glued to the telly now, grip on phone tight), and John admitted, "I do, yes. What's the point of this?"

**How much?**

**SH**

"How much _what_, Sherlock? How much do I like your voice?"

**Yes.**

**SH**

John (more of a blush now, eyes narrowed, pulse most likely- no, definitely- quickened) sent his friend another look. "Enough that I'm considering dropping _your _phone in acid if you don't bloody stop it. What kind of experiment is this supposed to be?"

Sherlock didn't text an answer back, but John knew better than to assume his friend was finished. He stood from the couch to move over to his friend, smirk in place, a glint in his eye (oh, dear).

"I'm bored, John."

"Oh." (Visual shiver, glaze over the eyes, lids lowered, pulse most definitely racing).

Sherlock smirked and settled on the floor on his knees in front of his friend. "I believe I like these test results..."

"O-of?" (Results? They were doing an experim- oh. Yes, right).

Sherlock just ran his hands up his friend's jean clad thighs and said casually, "I wonder if hearing my voice in a more..._sexual_ light will have as visual of an effect on you as I believe it would."

The answer? Yes (although John never did choose which was worse, the experiments or the moods, but Sherlock did get what he wanted).

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><p><strong>Author's Notes. <strong>Well. Hello. I don't know what to say; I didn't expect to see you here. This is quite a surprise.

The parenthesis are meant to be a mixture of John and Sherlock's thoughts, mostly Sherlock's. Does that make sense? Sherlock just struck me as the kind of guy who would go without speaking for a day, for the hell of it. I'm an S/J slasher, I'll admit, so I had to spin it that way. It's not the best ever, because I'm mostly unfamiliar with their characters, but I love the show so much. It's fantastic.

Stay beautiful!


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